In my 38th year of life I've looked anxiety and sadness straight in the face and said "no more". I took bold steps to break strongholds of fear to change course, I stopped the derailing of my purpose in life. In my 38th year I discovered parts of myself that were u.g.l.y. Like, corners of the haunted house basement sort of ugly. They were dark moldy areas of hurt, anger, and unforgiveness where fear, confusion, resentment and indignation resided. In the past I would have scurried back up to the light and not gone back to the basement for a few months until I was forced to by a life circumstance. This year I didn’t run. I stayed. I carefully poked around, scared of what I might find that I couldn’t see with the naked eye (there was plenty). And like in an episode of Hoarders; Life Crisis Edition, I took action. I grabbed my cleaning supplies; blanketing my heart in the word of Truth every morning and I listened deeply to the wisdom of those who have done the same labor-intensive cleaning. I embraced more deeply the hugs from friends, the laughter with Otto, the sweet moments with Ezra, and quietly baking beside of Canaan. There were the words of a powerful song, a chapter in a book or an Instagram meme messaged to be by a bestie… and I used all of those tools to start scrubbing away and disinfecting years of grime and infestation that I didn’t realize had been eroding my foundation.

Two weeks ago I went in for major surgery. One of those life things that pretty much forces you to sit on the couch for days and days....and days....and days on end. Passing the hours brought with it few options: reruns of the Kardashian life, knitting (I've lost any skill I had in that hobby long ago), staring at my popcorn ceiling that needed a fresh paint job a decade ago, orrrr.....embrace this time as a gift. A gift to process and heal. My heart. Not the stitches.

So, I dove in. Truthfully, I felt super bad for myself. Like whopping huge pity party at moments. Here I am, 38 years old - fresh out of a 4 hour surgery (complete with a catheter bag), sitting in a house that has kids running through it a little less than before thanks to an out-of-body-experience called divorce. Damnnnnn.....38, you could have been kinder.

But wait.

38 isn't over, pretty girl! In fact, 38 really just started revving up. Choice #1: Chalk 38 up to a year for the record books to not be repeated. Or. Choice #2: Make the rest of it completely unforgettable in the most purposeful and passionate ways possible.

So I opened a Word Doc and got to work. I titled my exercise:

"What Do I Want the Story of My 38th Year To Be? Because gosh-darn-it, I wasn't going to let the story that was currently being written become the book of this year. I only have like 60 more...every single one counts, right?! Yes!

Below is what I wrote. And below that you'll find a printable sheet because you're going to do the same exercise and declare some things about your year that you won't (I won't let you!) put off till the next. Boldly and proudly declare your dreams but don't stop there! Take ballsy action steps to make them reality. And if you find you're stuck because of grief, exhaustion, fear....email me. Lets chat it out -- I've right there in the thick of it with you <3

Ready.

Set.

Go.

In my 38th yearI will find a new song to sing. New words to say that tell the story of my life. Yes, pain has been a part of that song but it won’t be the chorus that I sing. My journey has lyrics that should be sung at the top of my lungs and given the most powerful chorus that should be repeated over and over again like a bad 80’s song.

In my 38th yearI will create more with my hands. I will paint. Knead. Needlework. Shape clay. Write letters. I will become an artist once again.

In my 38th yearI will form community in a deeper and richer level than ever before. I will reignite the spirit of hospitality that went dormant in the cold season of separation and divorce. I will love my friends more deeply and completely and I will draw new friends to my dinner table to know their stories and share belly laughs and sentimental tears.

In my 38th yearI will learn to forgive. Not a forgiveness that lasts for a while and then fades when wrong is done once again – but a longsuffering forgiveness that lets my heart run free through fields and pick flowers of grace and mercy to give in a beautiful bouquet to those I thought I would always fear and cower from.

In my 38th yearI will go for some really big things. Dreams that sat idle because the stress of life blocked my energy to pursue intensely will sit idle no more.

In my 38th yearI will learn from my failures and strengthen the attributes and qualities that will allow me to become a partner worthy of the most amazing future marriage relationship I will one day have.

In my 38th yearI will quit trying to handle every emotional barrier on my own. I will stop running into the same brick wall and will instead ask for help to navigate around (or break through) them.

In my 38th yearI will pursue more eagerly than ever before my relationship with my Creator and slow down enough to feel His delight over me.

In my 38th yearI will complain less. Compliment strangers more. Dance often. Eat without guilt. Smile more. Cry less (unless it’s a happy cry). Cuddle my kids more closely. Hug them more deeply. Wear heels more than I wear flats. And find a shade of lipstick that I love.

And in my 38th yearI will set some pretty radical goals for year 39. Can't wait.